


Aftertaste

by knightswatch



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Breathplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Grinding, M/M, Mild Degredation, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:05:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightswatch/pseuds/knightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yahaba looks both dazed and incredibly pleased with himself at the same time, his eyes dragging over the red fabric wrapped twice around his hand like he's still surprised by the turn of events. Kyoutani-- wasn't exactly expecting this either, but there isn't space left in his brain for worrying about it at the moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftertaste

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Drifts and Pulls](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5284643) by [shions_heart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart). 



> So, Sy wrote something that was kind of a little sinful, and then I took it and wrote something incredibly, uncontrollably sinful in response. Ooops.

Kyoutani's back hits the tiled wall of the bathroom without much force. Mostly because the tie around his neck is still wrapped around Yahaba's knuckles and it pulls tighter when he's pressed back. It's not tight enough to be anything more than a knot of pressure at the base of his throat, but even that makes heat coil in his stomach, a counterpart to the way the cold of the wall eats into his shoulders through the thin fabric of his shirt. 

Yahaba looks both dazed and incredibly pleased with himself at the same time, his eyes dragging over the red fabric wrapped twice around his hand like he's still surprised by the turn of events. Kyoutani-- wasn't exactly expecting this either, but there isn't space left in his brain for worrying about it at the moment. Everything is getting lost in the whirl of sensation, and his shoulders push back harder against the wall to allow his hips to twitch forward slightly with a sound that's meant to be a grunt but comes out like a whimper from the back of his throat. There's a light in Yahaba's eyes when he hears it, the drag of his tongue over his lower lip before he chuckles softly.

“You really are like a horny dog,” the words shouldn't make his gut give a little pulse of heat like they do, and Kyoutani rolls his eyes to try and ignore it and fits his hands around Yahaba's hips. Pulling their bodies together again and dragging his teeth against the tendon of Yahaba's neck rather than kissing him once more. Yahaba's hand, the one not holding Kyoutani's tie like a leash, rests on the tiles next to Kyoutani's side and he hums from the back of his throat, drawing the tie slowly tighter with his other.

Kyoutani's head flies back so hard that he nearly cracks it open against the wall, and Yahaba stops again once his breath starts to come harder in his throat, the pressure just shy of making his chest ache for air and the tips of his fingers crackle with static from the loss of oxygen. His back arches on its own and he squeezes his hand against Yahaba's hips, mouth hanging open slightly, voice cracking on the way out of his mouth. “More.”

There's a sound somewhere between a groan and laughter in response and the pressure around his throat draws tighter. One hand drops from Yahaba's hip to scrabble against the cold wall behind him, looking for something to grip, something to hold onto before the mounting pressure in his chest cracks him in half. Yahaba's mouth fits over his again, licking into Kyoutani's open mouth and pushing air back into his lungs only to be stopped by the tightness around his throat.

His hips roll forward once again, grunting when he finds Yahaba pushing back against him this time, releasing the tight grip he has on the tie slowly, letting Kyoutani's breath return in heavy, damp pants. His eyes are bleary, but he catches the small shudder that rolls down Yahaba's shoulders when another whine falls out of his mouth without permission. He sounds needy, _desperate_ , and when he grinds himself forward once more and manages to line himself up against the bulge in Yahaba's slacks, he still only wants _more_. 

Yahaba pushes back this time, and if Kyoutani were more in command of himself, he would probably taunt Yahaba about not being very in control of his baser instincts either, but he's distracted by the sweet drag of friction against his cock and his hand moves from Yahaba's hip to drag against his back, blunt nails biting into the soft skin that he finds. He's going to apologize for it until air hisses out from between Yahaba's teeth and he gives a short, sharp yank on the tie.

He's probably going to go nuts if Yahaba keeps torturing him like this and not giving him anything more, but he doesn't even know what he wants well enough to ask for it. Instead, he digs his teeth into Yahaba's lower lip the next time they kiss and keeps grinding his hips into Yahaba's, rubbing himself raw through his slacks, feeling his boxers sticking to the slicked head of his cock. 

Kyoutani's nerves are fizzling under his skin when Yahaba's hand lifts from where it's been planted against the wall and drags over the side of his neck, up and into his hair, buzzed strands sliding between his fingers easily. Yahaba leans his head forward, damp lips dragging against the shell of Kyoutani's ear, voice soft, hazy at the edges. “I wanna make you _mine_ , Kyoutani-kun.”

The words make his hips twitch forward again before he can even form an actual response, and Yahaba's grin against the side of his face is a physical sensation. That alone makes heat roil in his stomach again, and even though he grits his teeth around his voice it slips out anyway. “ _Please_.”

He's not even sure what he's asking for, what he specifically wants Yahaba to give him. There's a surprised look in Yahaba's eyes like he didn't expect the response or maybe he didn't even expect his own words-- he smiles anyway. But Yahaba twists the tie in his hand and drags his teeth on the shell of Kyoutani's ear, pushing more weight into his hips and rolling them with purpose, setting an even rhythm of friction. 

Kyoutani's head falls back against the wall again, more softly this time, enough that the impact of it doesn't rattle through his skull. The friction of Yahaba's hips pushing against his isn't enough, even when he shoves his hips forward harder with a frustrated noise, voice rattling out of the center of his chest, worn rough by the soreness in his throat from being constricted again and again. “Y- Yahaba, I need… I can't…”

He trails off without finishing when Yahaba slowly unravels the tie from around his knuckles, using both of his hand to peel Kyoutani's slacks open, thumb dragging over the wet patch stuck to the head of his cock and making Kyoutani grit his teeth, muscles in his neck standing out in sharp lines as he tenses against more of the sounds that want to come out. His chest is heaving so hard around each breath that it aches a little in the center like Yahaba is still slowly tugging his airway closed.

Yahaba's head comes to rest lightly on his shoulder, breathing heavy but _slow_ against the bare skin of his neck, rubbing his palm into the swell of Kyoutani's cock, still outside of his boxers. Kyoutani can't see his face, but he can still hear the grin on Yahaba's face when he speaks. “You look so good like this, Kyoutani-kun.”

It's completely unfair that simple words can make heat _throb_ through his whole body like that, the unmistakably interested twitch of his cock against Yahaba's palm. For the space of a breath, neither of them says anything, and then Yahaba chuckles weakly. “Are you getting off on me being nice to you?”

“Shut up,” Kyoutani grumbles in response, because he _is_ , and he has no idea if that's normal or not. It doesn't seem to matter either way to Yahaba, who pulls his hand away only to tug his own slacks open and push them down his thighs slightly. He laughs when Kyoutani does the same, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to the side of his neck, small hums of sound vibrating his skin. Kyoutani almost jumps when Yahaba's fingers dig into his ass, but he restrains himself and simply rolls his eyes instead.

That is until Yahaba uses the firm grip he has to line their hips up and roll them together slowly, dragging slick skin against skin and making a startled moan jump from Kyoutani's chest and fall out of his mouth. He lets Yahaba guide him until he has a sense of the rhythm and rolls his hips on his own, a shiver rolling down his spine when Yahaba's mouth hovers over his ear once again. “Does that mean I should call you a good boy?”

It's something that really, really shouldn't make him groan the second that Yahaba says it, even though it does. Yahaba doesn't laugh this time, trailing his fingers from Kyoutani's ass to trace up his spine, under his shirt. It's not a drag of nails against his skin, and Kyoutani still shudders at how _tender_ the gesture feels, his breath shoved out of his lungs in a small murmur of pleased sound. 

“So _good_ ,” Yahaba is nearly cooing at him, and even if it should feel condescending and annoying, the heat in Kyoutani's stomach coils tighter and one of his hands balls into a fist and slams into the tile of the wall behind him, the cold long forgotten until it touches his scalding skin again. He's achingly _close_ when Yahaba pushes forward and grabs hold of his tie again, jerking it but not hard enough to actually be constricting, just a sharp reminder, grabbing Kyoutani's attention before he speaks again. “You're my good ace, aren't you?”

He isn't sure if the question requires an answer or not, but any attempt at it is lost when he has to clap a hand over his own mouth to keep from _shouting_ as he comes so hard from the words and the grind of Yahaba against his body that it feels like he's being wrenched out of his own body. The steady rhythm of Yahaba grinding against him goes quick and erratic, and even with his mind stretched thin, white, and blank by the orgasm he feels the warmth painting against his abs, the subtle gasps of Yahaba coming right after him.

His bones are so heavy and warm that he almost collapses onto the floor. He catches himself before he can, arms wrapping lazy and loose around Yahaba's waist, keeping him from escaping. He wishes he were tall enough that he could lean his face into Yahaba's hair and slump into him, but instead his forehead ends up against Yahaba's collarbone, pressed close to the still frantic beating of his heart. His eyes feel heavy, and even if he wants to do nothing more than literally fall asleep like this, standing up, he grumbles against Yahaba's chest anyway.

“If you tell _anyone_ about this, I'm gonna kill you.”

Yahaba laughs, fingers stroking through his hair slowly. “Down, boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly so sorry. This got way out of hand as I was writing it and I couldn't stop.


End file.
